Paper Confessional
by Zaedah
Summary: Until she’d handed over the letter, there was always the opportunity to recant the words. [RobinMarian]


Somewhere in the middle of the first season, we have correspondence and confessions. Oh, and roast duck!

**PAPER CONFESSIONAL**

At the east gate, a cloaked figure hid in the shadows of midnight. Guards were eluded twice during the short wait. A small man approached the figure and gave a nod in greeting. The cloak's hood was pushed back to reveal the beautiful face of Lady Marian. When they'd spoken this morning, she'd requested he return before departing for home.

"Give this to your master," she instructed in whispered conspiracy. "It is sealed, so he will know should it be tampered with."

Much took possession of the rolled paper, frowning in the dark. "I would never peek."

Her smile formed at his sensitivity even as she watched him sneak away. Retracing her steps, she hurried back into the relative warmth of the castle. The document would be safe. But the contents worried her more than the letter's journey into Sherwood. Until she'd handed it over, there was always the opportunity to recant the words. But now he was sure to read them. Confession was good for the soul, she knew. Perhaps it could be good for two.

…………

At the forest's edge, a cloaked figure hid in the heights of the trees. Patrols were evaded thrice while a Saracen bow was held at ready. A bird call from below signaled an expected advance and the figure waited until the small man tucked safely among the trees before stealthly descending from his perch. Neither spoke until several feet of underbrush lay behind them. Robin headed straight for camp, but Much tugged on his arm to halt him.

"You must read this first." He pressed the roll into his master's hand and Robin looked at the paper with suspicion. "Communication from Marian. I got it from her directly."

A light touched Robin's eyes upon hearing her name and Much opted to return to camp alone, granting Robin privacy for whatever message his lady had penned. Robin sank tiredly onto the remains of a fallen tree, breaking the seal and unrolling the thick paper.

_The Outlaw Locksley,_

_This letter will find you in surprise, I believe. I realize the risk I take, however I have placed this into trusted hands and therefore am assured of its secure arrival. You will know its genuine origin through Much's own word._

_Should I tell you about the happenings at court? Dare I detail the politics you so despise? I assure you, I now understand your dislike of such trivialities. It is enough to know the sheriff will not give up the hunt for you. But this is not the reason I write._

_Should I tell you about the gossip in Nottingshire? Talk of the private lives of others is as food here. One outlaw serves as the primary subject, both angry and rather lustful discussions abounding. I imagine this pleases you, the way proper ladies fall apart when considering your smile and daring. Even the married ones. But something else consumes my thoughts._

_Should I reach my point? I think perhaps this letter could be in the fire by now, but I must trust you have chosen to indulge me. I write these words because I fear you would not hear them should I speak them to you. You would dismiss my worry and alter the topic as swiftly as you draw your bow. And with equal accuracy._

_When last I saw you, I did something rash. I intended a light embrace, I promise you. Forgive me the impropriety of the outcome. Do not think I regret my actions, nor yours. But aside from the many things it alerted me to, I found cause for concern and it therefore prompts me to seek this paper audience. _

_Robin, you are growing far too thin. Mind you, malnourishment is not unusual for one who returns from war. I suppose I expected it. But it has not improved since you've been home. I well know the reason. What food you acquire is distributed to the villagers. And Much indicates that what is left for your men is given evenly with the exception of yourself. Of course you tell them you have eaten. Please hold no anger toward Much for confessing this. You are so very dear to him. As you are to me. This affection is hardly new, though frequently accursed. I imagine you will not be surprised to learn my thoughts toward you have ventured into the territory of forgiveness. Yet I myself am surprised by how much more than this territory you have claimed. We are no longer children, which complicates these emotions though does not diminish them.  
_

_Even as I write these words, I am anxious. Confession is no easier on paper than it is in person, I am finding. Regardless, if I am of consequence to you in any way, I implore you to honor my request. Do not starve yourself for the sake of others. Perhaps I can convince you to dine with me as safety allows. I vow to provide better company than the trees. I am returning to my father's house tomorrow. I will be waiting for you. Do not make the wait long, I entreat you. Should incentive be required, I may seek more than a light embrace when we meet._

_Now it is time to burn this record of my indecency. But forget not my words, nor doubt them._

_M.F._

He reread the last section several times before stashing the letter in his cloak. Five years of war and one as an outlaw in his own country had taught him to treat every invitation as a trap. But he knew the words were hers. She would have found a way to tell Much if she'd been forced to write the letter. The other prospect, that she had turned on him, pained him beyond the formulation of words. He could not ignore the possibility that the sheriff was counting on his affection for the Maid Fitzwater to lure him to his death. Was she worth the risk when there were so many others he must consider? He was needed here. But what of his own needs?

There was a time that little else mattered but the pulling of his desires. For adventure, for separation. Now he was home and yet so far from it. And the weight of others' well-being, secured by his hand, set a burden he could not shake off. Being depended on was hardly the goal of his youth. The only thing that carried over from those simpler days was her. His heart hadn't changed with the time away. Rather, the maturing of his feelings for her made all else seem easy by comparison. Until now.

…………

Eventually, pacing between the two windows would catch someone's attention, but Marian was helpless to stop her legs. With only a few hours until morning, it was foolish to hope for a visitor now. Her father had checked in on her some time ago and reading her anxiety, forced a confession from her lips. Rather than fury at the danger to his house and possibly their lives, he simply nodded in that knowing way of fathers who understand their children. She could hear his uneven footsteps scrapping the wood floor as he neared her doorway. Turning, she let him see her tears.

"He's not coming." Her tone was resigned, but she looked to the old man for any ember of hope. "Perhaps I was too forward?" She questioned to herself and Sir Edward chose not to ask her meaning.

"My dear, you forget he is an outlaw. This is dangerous for him. They won't wait until daybreak to hang him should he be found here." He stood close, running his hands over her arms. "And besides, he may well think this a trap."

The possibility hadn't occurred to her and froze her heart in place. "No. He would never believe I would…"

"Others have turned against him. And trust is hard to maintain after war and exile. He's smart. He knows he can't risk capture just because you bid him here, however sincere your intentions."

Marian stepped away, returning to her post at the far window. "No," she repeated firmly. "Something else keeps him."

Sir Edward made his way back to the hall, paused as if to speak, then continued to his room. Marian looked toward the heavens, seeking answers in the sparkling diamonds above. She remembered their last encounter, when she'd kissed him with such fierceness. Hadn't he responded to her demanding lips? Had his hands not pulled her hips closer? If not for the knock on her door, she could not say how much farther they'd have gone. And she'd have denied him nothing. Did he sense that and think it better to stay away? The stars refused to answer her inner questions. So she spoke the one most paramount.

"Robin, where are you?"

"Where I shouldn't be."

A hand flew to her heart as Marian's eyes shot to the second window, finding Robin climbing inside. She wasted no time closing the gap between them, sliding her arms tightly around his neck. It took a moment to register that Robin did not return the embrace. The tension in his shoulders crackled beneath her flesh and she wondered if the letter's words or her incorrect assumptions put it there. Pulling back, Marian studied the outlaw before her. His blue eyes, always so expressive, spoke well his state of mind. He was tired and entirely too cautious in her presence. His focus continually shifted to the door behind her, as if waiting for an ambush. But at least he was here. And she did promise a meal, did she not?

Stepping away and smoothing her skirts, Marian summoned her 'gracious host' tone. "I'll have a table prepared immediately."

Still looking past her, the outlaw shook his head. "I can not stay."

"Robin, you must…"

"I know," he cut off her reprimand. "I only came to ask a favor of my own."

So little warmth could be found in his gaze, Marian would almost mistake him for a stranger. Hadn't they always been terribly informal with each other? She schooled her features to receive his request.

"Ask."

"Send no further messages."

Nearly did she smile at his request as he must truly care to be so concerned with her safety. "I took every precaution to ensure the letter's receipt. And there is none more trustworthy than Much. I was in no danger of discovery." And then it hit her; the humorless eyes, the distance. Even his tone was infinitely harder and her own choked out her thoughts. "It's me you don't trust."

"How do I know for what purpose you've brought me here?" He challenged, stepping back toward the window ledge, prepared to make a quick escape.

"H-how do you know?" She was sure her face showed every ounce of anguish his doubt inflicted. But she cared not to hide it. "You think I would willfully betray you? I feared for you. I wrote to tell you, foolishly believing you'd argue less if the words did not come from my lips. Because I care."

"And yet I must wonder who else has earned your care." His meaning was clear. Gisbourne. The man was never far from her thoughts, and apparently he consumed Robin as well. Neither had fondness for the sheriff's crone, who even in absentia seemed to inhabit the unspoken word amongst them.

"Others may have turned against you, but do not presume to cast me away with them. You've been given no reason to treat me thus." She strode a few paces away, then turned back to see his eyes downcast in something close to shame. Receiving this sign of emotion brought her back to him. Raising her hand to his jaw, she tilted his gaze up to meet hers. "If you cannot believe me, go now. And I beg you, do not return."

Robin turned his head aside, evading her touch, but made no move to leave. Again his eyes found the floor and Marian stilled her tongue, letting him decide their fate. The ultimatum lingered in the space between their determined stances.

A deep breath later, he closed his eyes briefly before fixing them on her. "Forgive me."

Penitence coated his countenance now and she seized the chance to play upon it. "On one condition. Eat something."

"You never give up." When his grin slowly formed, she knew her persistence had won.

"My tenacity is second only to my roast duck."

"Unfortunate for the duck."

Robin finally moved away from the window, cementing his intention to stay. Pleased that their bantering had survived the argument, Marian saw all the traces of her Robin; the unruliness, the amusement and the affection swirled in eyes that seemed all too content to view her.

Moving to the door, Marian called back over her shoulder, "Leave and the Nightwatchman will hunt you down." She could have sworn she heard soft laughter as she shut the door.

The aforementioned fowl had been keeping a warm temperature over a small fire. She gathered it, along with bread, cheese and wine, enough for him to bring back to his men once they were finished. In her hurry to return before he vanished, Marian nearly ran over her father. The tray was steadied faster than her breath. Sir Edward merely looked at the mounds of food with a raised eyebrow.

"I presume our visitor will be satisfied with all you have provided."

Marian trembled under the heavy weight of so much sustenance. "I trust our visitor will be safe enough to enjoy it." It was a plea and one she knew her father would not take lightly.

"I'll see to it." The slightest smile crept upon his haggard face and he hobbled away to secure the house more fully.

She nearly tipped the tray sideways trying to quietly open the heavy door. The duck protested the sudden shift but behaved enough to remain on its plate. She made it inside with only a few vegetables bearing the brunt of her clumsiness. Seeking out Robin, she found him again by the window, moonlight gracing his features. He was so far from her, like a glimpse of a ghost she could not capture. In the past, he'd never let an opportunity to tease her pass. Was he so deep in thought that he had missed her awkward entrance?

"Robin?" She called softly.

Slowly he turned to her, and once more looked past her as though checking for guards. If he distrusted her so, why had he remained? But she held her tongue, too grateful to spoil it by restarting a confrontation. Setting the tray down at her writing table, Marian waited for Robin to decide the next step. She caught the slightest smile as his eyes glanced over her food choices; clearly she recalled his favorite meals and reproduced them during the day. Pushing off the window frame, Robin approached the table with the grace of a battled tested man and the pace of the starving. Stopping before her, he gently encased her hand in his and kissed it with a chivalry that made her blush.

"Thank you, Marian. This will feed my men for some time."

The blush gave way to lines of perplexity. "This was meant to feed you, you'll recall."

Still holding her hand lightly, Robin shook his head, calling upon his previous stance. "I can't stay."

"I believe we've already established that. But you _have_ stayed and will stay until I'm satisfied. What food remains you may take with you for the others." Impertinence, thy name is Marian.

Despite her harsh tone, his eyes took on a sparkle she'd missed all night. "Has anyone told you that you're demanding?"

Squeezing his hand, Marian inched closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Has anyone told you that you're impossible?"

"It's one of my better traits."

With the return of his grin, she could feel every wall crumbling between them. Marian took a step back, pulling her hand from his grasp and busied herself fixing a plate for him. Her smile fought the confines of her prudence and he must have detected the battle because his grin grew at her expense. This was, of course, much more familiar territory. As were the topics of conversation as they feasted; the sheriff, her father, the villagers of Loxley. The truth behind feelings were left at their feet, nipping to break into their words but always stamped down. Still, Marian considered they might no longer need voicing further confessions. Neither was blind to the presence of mature emotions, safely harbored within this room. And despite distance and circumstance, she trusted such feelings would be carried with them. Only quietly for now. There was simply no other option.

But the day would come when the dark things would come to light. Both for England and for them.


End file.
